


The Portrait

by Quilligraphy_92



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Other, Post-Season/Series 03, monchevy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 12:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19151356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quilligraphy_92/pseuds/Quilligraphy_92
Summary: After Philippe complains that the Chevalier needs to find a hobby, the Chevalier decides to take up art and make Philippe his first subject.





	The Portrait

**Author's Note:**

> Still very new to posting my work...a comment, or any constructive criticism, would mean a lot...I hope you enjoy.

The scratching, scraping sound of the graphite ceased. ‘Will you _please_ stop moving’ the Chevalier de Lorraine insisted, peering out from around a large canvas rested on an easel, one hand indignantly placed on a hip and a thin graphite drawing stick elegantly poised in the other.

Philippe, duc d’Orléans, glowered in return. ‘That’s easy for you to say, _you_ haven’t be sat in this ridiculous position for the past four hours’.

They were in the ante-room of the d’Orléans suit. Philippe, dressed in full military regalia, lay reclined on the divan. He was propped up on his left arm with his right knee bent and raised, his right hand rested on his knee with a sword held tightly in its clasp. Meanwhile the Chevalier, dressed down to his shirtsleeves, surveyed the scene. The large windows were thrown wide open, and bright light from the warm summers day flooded the room, serving only to remind Philippe of where he had intended to spend his afternoon – riding through the estate with Liselotte, and not cooped up inside. He shifted on his seat, a grumpy huff escaping his lips, earning him yet another scowl from the Chevalier.

‘If I recall correctly, it was you who suggested I find a hobby’ the Chevalier said, his voice irritated and his attention returned to the canvas in front of him. ‘Besides fucking and flirting, of course’ he added in an undertone.

Philippe rolled his eyes, the comment evidently having failed to escape his notice. ‘I suggested that you find something to occupy yourself with whilst I am busy with council matters – not something to take up yet more of my time! And I should certainly hope that fucking and flirting are proving tricky hobbies to practice without me around’. Though said in jest, there was a touch of vulnerability to his words, no matter how he try to suppress it – it had not been long after all, since the very concept of a ‘them’ had been under question.

‘Alas, nowadays it appears so Mignonette!’ the Chevalier exclaimed in mock despair. ‘Which is a great shame, as I consider them my most accomplished talents…I suppose you shall have to give me ready opportunity to practice them, for it would be a travesty to loose such skills - as I'm sure you would agree!’ he said, throwing Philippe a wink and a cheeky smile as he took another glance at his study, serving to quell the doubt in Philippe’s mind. ‘Anyway...’ the Chevalier continued, his focus once more returned to the canvas, ‘...they say it’s good for couples to have a shared interest, I thought this would be a nice way for us both to pass an afternoon!’.

  
‘Whoever said that clearly didn’t have to sit in armour for over four hours on a sweltering summers day...do you have _any_ idea how uncomfortable this is?’ Philippe grumbled as he shifted on his seat, the divan creaking slightly as he adjusted his weight.

At the sound of movement the Chevalier looked up from his work, letting out a small sigh of defeat he place the graphite drawing stick on the side table and sauntered across the room towards the divan. ‘No, none! I wouldn't be seen dead in such an ensemble!’ he said as he reached Philippe, and with a sly smile touching the corner of his lips, began to re-position him. The Chevalier’s hands worked slowly and gently across Philippe’s body, his fingertips tracing Philippe’s form, following paths they knew well. A tilt to his knee, a lift to his forearm, a drop of his shoulder. ‘You, however..’ the Chevalier muttered, as he tucked an errant strand of ebony hair behind Philippe’s ear, his fingers trailing down Philippe’s jaw to lift his chin towards his own, ‘...look ravishing’. The Chevaliers gaze lingered on Philippe’s lips and warm breath fanned his cheek, as ever-so slowly the Chevalier knelt on the divan and leaned forward, closing the distance between them.

A sudden click of a door handle and the creak of hinges broke through the silence. The moment lost, both their heads snapped around to view the intrusion as Liselotte came charging into the room. ‘Philippe, I thought you and I were…oh, my...’ she exclaimed, as she whirled around, eyes averted to face the wall ‘...sorry boys!’. Truly, she had walked in on worse sights, though by now she thought she would have learned to knock.

‘No need for apologies my dear!’ the Chevalier said, his tone jovial, as he stood and crossed the room, resuming his position behind the easel. ‘Philippe was growing tired of our afternoon anyway - a distraction will do him some good, whether that is provided by your wonderful self, or mine!’ he said, giving Philippe a broad smile. Though from the sarcastic grin which he received in return, it was clear Philippe considered certain afternoon ‘interruptions’ preferable to others.

‘Well, quite’ Liselotte said, removing her eyes from the red and gold damask wallpaper, now assured that modesty was not lost. ‘Philippe and I had planned to go out for a ride...though, I'm now more intrigued by whatever is going on in here’ she said, as she cast a bemused gaze over a disgruntled looking Philippe residing on the divan, a large canvas, and the Chevalier in a partial state of undress and covered in soot-like smudges.

‘Philippe suggested that I find a hobby...’ the Chevalier said in an amused tone, as he continued to work the canvas.

‘...and the Chevalier decided to take up art, and make me his first subject’, Philippe replied flatly.

‘I see’ she said hesitantly, clearly not understanding at all. Bizarrely, of all the sights she had walked in on, this was one of the most unusual. ‘So may I see this masterpiece?’ she asked.

The Chevalier glanced up from his work, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. ‘Of course, my dear, as it happens I am almost finished’ he said, looking her directly in the eye and giving her a conspiratorial wink.

Quite bewildered by the whole episode, Liselotte slowly crossed the room towards the Chevalier and took a glance at the canvas. Her hand shot to her mouth in a vain attempted to conceal a loud guffaw, as she stared wide eyed at the portrait in front of her. The Chevalier gave her a scathing glare.

‘What is it? What has he done?’ Philippe called to them, alerted by the commotion.

‘Has Philippe’s... _sword_...always been quite that large?!’ Liselotte asked the Chevalier, deaf to Philippe’s protestations as she stared unblinking as the portrait in front of her.

A smug smile pulled at the corners of the Chevaliers lips. ‘My dear, I do believe I have seen Philippe wield his sword on a few more occasions than you’.

‘What is it? What on earth is going on?’ Philippe asked as he made to stand, his patience wearing at the situation, and with the pair of them.

‘Ah-ah-ah!!! You need to stay _exactly_ where you are’ the Chevalier exclaimed, his hands raised in protestation until Philippe resumed his seat. ‘I have just a few final touches’ he muttered, as he rapidly attended to the canvas, Liselotte watching on all the while with a broad smile on her lips. ‘Et voilà’ he at last exclaimed, stepping back from the easel with a flourish of his hand.

Jumping from the divan Philippe strode across the room towards the pair, mischievous grins barely suppressed on their faces. Rounding the easel he was confronted with the product of the Chevalier’s work, which revealed him to indeed be quite the artist; covering the large canvas was a rather spectacular sketch of Philippe reclined on the coach, his knee raised, his arm rested on his leg, and his chin tilted up to cast his long ebony locks over his shoulders, though not a scrap of armour was in sight. Indeed, there was not a single stitch on him. He lay completely in the nude, and in most impressive state at that – even Philippe doubted his... _sword_...was ever quite that sizeable. He could feel the anger begin to boil away in the pit of his stomach. ‘What...what on earth is this?’ Philippe exclaimed, pointing to the canvas, his face aghast. ‘You made me sit for hours, in the most uncomfortable of clothes, in the most ridiculous of positions...only for you to draw some figment of your imagination?!’.

‘I simply felt inspired by the most beautiful thing I saw’ the Chevalier retaliated, his evident amusement at the situation a foil to the temper brewing within Philippe. ‘And yes, much of the drawing is from memory, but they were the most wonderful memories...’ he said, with a glint to his eye and a mischievous smile playing on his lips, ‘...and I got to spend an entire afternoon just looking at you!’.

‘Oh Philippe, it was only a bit of fun!’ Liselotte exclaimed, keen to subdue the building tension in the room. ‘I happen to think its rather good...’, she tilted her head slightly to the side, surveying the canvas, ‘...and perhaps not too inaccurate after all’.

A smug smile played at the corner of Philippe’s mouth, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. With a resigned sigh and a despairing shake of the head, he admitted defeat. ‘Very well, you are forgiven’ he said to the Chevalier. ‘It truly is a very good drawing, and I am honoured you wished to spend your afternoon musing over me. But I want it destroyed. Maintenon is proof enough of how dangerous such _things_...’ he gestured to the general crotch region of the canvas ‘...can be, should they fall into the wrong hands’. With another shake of the head he began to wrestle himself free of his armour, and grabbed his riding gloves from the top of a near-by dresser. ‘Right Liselotte, I think its finally time we set off for that ride...and I want that destroyed by the time I return’ Philippe called over his shoulder as he strode out of the room, Liselotte following behind, an amused smile on her face.

With the room finally quiet, the Chevalier inspected his work. It had, of course, all been a bit of fun; an amusing way to pass an afternoon, and a clever ploy to stop Philippe from pestering over how he spent his time. But in all truth, he thought the portrait really was rather fine. Much too fine to be destroyed. Indeed, it may even prove handy on those long afternoons when he mourned Philippe's absence…using ones imagination did become tiresome after a while. Lifting the canvas from its easel, he tucked it under an arm and made his way from the ante-room to the bedchamber – after-all, he had the rest of the afternoon to kill, and he had used his imagination quite enough for one day.


End file.
